I had just given birth when my husband Matthias tossed me a bundle of cash. I stared at him in confusion: "Why are you giving me money? Where's the baby?" He avoided my gaze, but his stepmother Rachel smiled: "Matthias already gave the baby to me. I really like him. Thank you for bearing a child for me." I threw the money in his face. For the next four years, we fought over the child constantly. The day the baby ran a fever, I rushed him to the hospital and set fire to the mansion. But when the child woke up, he pushed me away and cried: "Why did you take me! I want Rachel to be my mom! Get out! Get out!" I froze. After a long silence, I said to him: "Call me 'Mom' one last time, and I'll never come back." My son Steve blinked his little eyes: "If I call you 'Mom' just once, you won't fight with Rachel over me anymore?" I nodded. "Mom." My hands, burned from carrying him to the hospital, still hadn't been treated. The blisters were badly swollen. I raised my hand to cover them: "Yes." "I called you that. So you really won't... fight over me anymore?" I looked at his innocent little face and smiled, shaking my head: "No. I won't." Never again. Steve was desperate to leave the hospital. I quickly bandaged my hand. I carried him back to the place Matthias and I shared. By the time we arrived, Matthias had already sent people searching everywhere. When he saw me return carrying the child, he paused. Steve struggled violently in my arms. I quickly set him down. He ran toward Rachel, who stood beside Matthias. His clear voice reached everyone's ears: "Mommy!" Matthias frowned and scolded me: "Christiana! Why did you take the child again!" Rachel held Steve in her arms, checking him over with no gentleness in her movements. Her manicured nails could scratch the child's skin at any moment. I instinctively reached out, then remembered my promise and pulled back. After confirming nothing was wrong, Rachel glared at me: "This is my and Matthias's child. What right do you have to take him!" The other friends and family who had been helping search all frowned: "Rachel is your elder! And she treats your child like her own! "You've never fed him or taught him anything. How dare you call yourself his mother!" "What right do you have to take the child!" Someone grabbed my collar in their agitation. Matthias called out coldly: "She's mine. I'll discipline her myself." Everyone fell silent. Rachel's face darkened. Matthias escorted me back to my room. He spoke coldly: "Why would you do something so extreme? Do you realize you almost hurt Rachel?" I sat on the sofa, staring blankly ahead: "Steve had a fever." "Fever or not, that's his mother's concern. What are you trying to prove by interfering?" I looked at him. He seemed to realize what he'd said and corrected himself: "I mean, everyone knows that Rachel is Steve's mother in name. You shouldn't have disrespected her like that." I stared at the man before me for a long time. The longer I looked, the more he felt like a stranger. "Matthias, let's get divorced." His hand holding the cigarette paused. We sat facing each other, locked in silent eye contact. The cigarette ash burned down to his fingers, but he didn't notice. I thought he wouldn't agree. He laughed—a single mocking laugh. He stood up, stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray on my side, and leaned down to look at me: "They were right. You really did use this trick to manipulate me." I froze. He pulled out his phone and transferred five million to someone. He sent a voice message: "I lost the bet. Transferred you the five million." "Matthias..." I looked at him in disbelief: "What are you talking about?" "Rachel said you'd definitely threaten me with divorce. She was right. Women understand women best." He tapped my nose: "You just cost me five million." I slapped his hand away: "I'm not joking!" He looked at his slightly reddened hand. He pulled it back indifferently, sighing with a hint of impatience in his expression: "Stop making a scene, will you? After all this drama, you still can't come up with anything substantial? "Christiana, if you actually went out and slept with another man, that would be more threatening than your tantrums." Slap! A hard blow landed on his face. His head tilted slightly to one side. I used all my strength: "Where did the Matthias who killed his own mother for me go!"
The shout echoed in the bedroom. Matthias froze for a few seconds, then sneered and turned his head away. I knew he was remembering the time he went to prison for me. That year, he was fourteen. His mother had taken me in after my parents died. But the condition was that every evening after school, I had to wear revealing clothes and stand at the door. That day, my school uniform was torn, my face covered in handprints, as his mother dragged me out by my hair. Matthias knelt at his mother's feet, his forehead bleeding from hitting the ground. But his mother just laughed: "Do you know why your father abandoned us? "That woman looked exactly like her!" She cut toward my underwear: "If you like seducing men so much, there are plenty of them outside!" "Mom!!" A desperate roar. A baseball bat left a dent in her skull. When the surgery room lights went out, the doctor said they'd done all they could. Matthias collapsed to his knees. As they took him away, he looked back at me. No blame, no resentment. He went to juvenile detention. I, previously ranked second in my grade, became first. When he got out, he'd already missed his best years. He was taller, thinner. He smiled at me and said: "Seeing you succeed academically puts my mind at ease." Back then, I swore I'd love only him for the rest of my life. Ten years later, I hate that he's still the only one in my heart. Matthias exhaled: "What's the point of bringing up the past over and over?" My fists trembled as I looked at him. "Christiana, do you know why I was willing to go so far back then?" My voice shook: "Why..." "Because I was young and naive." "What are you saying..." He leaned closer: "At fourteen, how many people had we even met? "We'd meet someone who made our hearts race and couldn't help but imagine an entire lifetime together. But how many fourteen-year-olds fit into one lifetime?" I couldn't speak. He smiled: "Are you still living at fourteen? After all these years, Christiana, can't you grow up?" My eyes stung despite myself. He laughed, picked up his jacket, and turned: "The past is past. Let it go." "Let it go?" My voice was hoarse: "What about you fighting for me, leaving the gang for me? "How am I supposed to forget that?" His footsteps stopped.
I took a deep breath: "After you got out of prison, you found me being forced by gang members to be their girlfriend. "You worked your way up to become their boss and warned them not to disturb my studies. "Back then you waited for me at the school gate every day. Have you forgotten?" Matthias looked down. "Later, the teacher told you to stop bothering me. You were upset and almost took it to the administration. "But he said... "Don't you know how much you'd ruin my future—an ex-con gang member marrying me?" I smiled bitterly: "You didn't sleep that night. The next day you became an apprentice at a hardware store near the school. "You built it up bit by bit into what it is today. "You were eighteen that year. You said you'd make your love a force that lifts me up. How am I supposed to forget that?" The room held only my questions and his silence. After a long while, he turned back: "That's your problem." The door closed. Those memories—I was the only one still treasuring them. Beautiful memories can kill too, apparently. I don't know how long I stood there. When I came to, I had already drafted a divorce agreement. Unsurprisingly, Matthias was at Rachel's place. I came to the door. Rachel's laughter drifted out: "What did you mean by publicly announcing you're giving me the seal that was meant for Christiana? Don't forget, I'm your father's woman now." Through the crack in the door, I saw Matthias pull Rachel onto his lap. He looked at her with the same tenderness he once showed me: "I want everyone to know that my love for you, Matthias's love, is a force that lifts you up." The divorce papers fell to the floor. At eighteen, starting as an apprentice, he said he'd make his love lift me up. At twenty-eight, holding the woman his mother said looked so much like me, his words were identical. Christiana, you really haven't grown up. The man who once stained his hands with blood to keep you from being defiled. Now he can mock you for not going out and sleeping with someone. Only you still cling to his former purity, unable to accept his change. "What are you doing here?" Steve's childish voice came from behind me. I snapped back to reality and quickly left.
I had planned to wait for Matthias to come home before giving him the divorce papers. But the next day, before I even woke up, a slap landed hard on me. Rachel's eyes were red from crying: "Where's my necklace! The keepsake from my mother—where did you steal it!" That's when I learned Rachel's necklace was missing. Hearing I'd been there yesterday, she immediately came with Matthias. I grabbed her wrist as she tried to hit me again and pushed her back hard: "I did go yesterday, but it was to deliver the divorce papers." Matthias's brow furrowed. I lifted my chin: "If you don't believe me, check the security footage." Rachel's face went pale. She was used to framing me. It's just that before, my mind was always on Steve, so I never bothered arguing with her. But if I actually investigated, she wouldn't have a leg to stand on. I didn't need to think—I knew the necklace was still in her room. I stared at her: "Should we check the footage now? If it shows I really did steal it, I'll turn myself in immediately. "But... if Rachel hid it herself..." I narrowed my eyes: "I'll press charges for defamation. You can go to prison." Rachel's breath caught. She nearly lost her footing. "Mom stole the necklace!" A childish voice froze my body. Steve stood in the doorway, pointing at me: "I saw her take Mommy's necklace last night!" I looked at him in disbelief. Even though we'd already severed our mother-son relationship, hearing those words still made my heart ache. "I told you, I only went to deliver... Ah!" I was shoved hard onto the bed. Matthias looked down at me: "He's just a child, and he's your child. Why would he frame you?" "Matth—" "Baby!" Rachel held Steve in her arms, checking him over. Her grip showed no restraint. Her manicured nails could break the child's skin at any moment. I instinctively reached out, then remembered what I'd promised and pulled back. After confirming nothing was wrong, Rachel glared at me viciously: "This is my and Matthias's child. What right do you have to take him!" In that instant, Steve's little face turned bright red. "Christiana, even your own child doesn't side with you. I think it's clear whether you did it or not. "Of course, you can refuse to admit it." Matthias smiled gently: "My legal team hasn't had a case in a while. They're worried they can't find anyone stubborn enough to take to court." My heart felt like someone was squeezing it: "What do you want?" Rachel held Steve in her arms, her red lips curling: "Don't be so tense. As your elder, how could I really send you to prison? "Here's what we'll do. Since the necklace was my mother's keepsake, just compensate me for its value." "How much?" "Ten million." I froze. Rachel's necklace was plastic and had never been appraised. But ten million—that was exactly the total amount of "compensation money" Matthias had given me during our marriage. Matthias frowned. I swallowed: "I burned it all." "Christiana," Rachel held Steve: "If you don't want to pay, just say so. Why use such a pathetic excuse?" Her eyes reddened: "Forget it. It was just something worthless my mother left behind. Only I treasure it as a keepsake. "Matthias, I'll head back now." She turned to leave, but Matthias pulled her back. "Debts must be repaid. That's only natural." Matthias smiled casually: "If you can't pay, you can always go to prison, right?" "Matthias!" I looked at him in shock: "I really don't have the money! I'm not joking!" "I know." He leaned down: "But you still have me—your husband, don't you?" He grabbed my wrist and pulled me off the bed, forcing me to kneel at the door. Matthias had his people take Steve away and pulled Rachel close: "In a moment, do whatever I tell you to do." The door closed in front of me. Soon after, a startled cry came from inside. I clenched my fists. Ten whole hours. I delivered water six times, protection twice, clean sheets twice. Servants passed by, laughing quietly: "Getting called in once is worth a million. The money comes fast, but I'd rather die than earn it that way." "A woman reduced to this might as well be dead. What dignity is there left in living?" "That's just Christiana being shameless." "This is called enduring humiliation!" "Right, right, exactly!" Only the butler who personally attended to me came over and tugged at me: "Christiana..." "I'm fine." The wounds in my palms where my nails had broken the skin had long since scabbed over. Years ago, when Matthias begged his mother not to make me service men, he knelt just like this. Fourteen-year-old Christiana never imagined that one day, Matthias would make her kneel outside the door while he was with another woman. But Christiana, fourteen was fourteen years ago. I closed my eyes: "It's time to grow up." After delivering supplies the fifteenth time, I stood up. After the ten million, I still had five million left over. Amid the intimate sounds echoing from the room. I arranged the divorce papers, page by page, neatly on the table. I picked up my bank card and turned to leave. Steve's little head poked out. He looked nervous: "Mom... I..." I said nothing, walked past him, and never looked back.
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